The Prison of Angels

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The entire town of Norstrom gathered around the rapist, yet they could do nothing. Three of the elders shouted in vain to keep the crowd calm. A fourth stood beside Colton, doing his best to console him.

“They know what’s right,” the old man said, rubbing his crooked nose. “Locke’s too far gone. They’ll kill him, quick and painless.”

Colton glared at the bound fiend. The man had been forced to his knees, his arms tied behind his back and a rope strung around his neck. Colton tied the rope himself, hoping no one would notice how tightly he’d been looping it until it was too late. They did notice, and Locke continued breathing, awaiting the mockery to come.

“What’s right, sure,” Colton said. “But what about what’s best?”

“Are they not the same?”

Colton shook his head.

“Right now they’re as far apart as the Abyss from the Golden Eternity.”

The signal had been given from the golden scepter, so it would not be long now. Together, townsfolk and rapist waited for the angel to arrive.

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